Opening the Wound
by Seirarin
Summary: Because once wasn't enough. Blood, Character death.


When Marik Ishtar awoke, the surrounding area was pitch black. The first thing he noticed, after making sure that he truly was awake, was the cold. The room was freezing, as well as the rock he was spread out upon, stomach down. Which led him to observation number two- his wrists, as well as his ankles, were bound to the rock. He tried to move them, but of course nothing happened. He didn't know what was happening, but he could tell it wasn't good, and that he needed to get away. But he already knew that it was a pointless effort, only serving to further terrify him.

He was hyperventilating, sure that he was going to die. After all, wasn't that usually what happened in this sort of situation? Marik had watched several horror movies since coming to the surface, and that was how people ended up. But hadn't he already suffered? Didn't he at least deserve to die a peaceful death?

Marik couldn't help it. He screamed, just at the thought of everything. Then he screamed again, praying to whatever god would listen for someone to find him. He didn't know where he was, or even if there were people nearby at all, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. He was Marik Ishtar after all, wasn't he? The Marik Ishtar who dared to take down the pharaoh? Who had seen and felt more horrific things at age eleven than some people did in a lifetime? So why did he feel so weak and helpless right now?

"Help…" Marik couldn't scream or yell anymore, with his throat burning from all of his previous attempts. "Someone, help me…"

"They can't hear you, you know." Startled, Marik jerked his head in the direction of the voice.

"Who are you?" he demanded, although he was trying to keep his voice from trembling as he said it.

The voice laughed, for what seemed like several minutes.

"Who am I?" he managed, after calming down a bit. "Who am I? How can you ask me this? Am I really that forgettable? Come on, Marik, think for a moment. Use that pretty little head of yours. I know you can remember if you try hard enough. Or was my existence as insignificant to you as it was to everyone else?" When Marik didn't respond right away, the person yelled, "Answer me, Marik! _Do you remember me?_"

"Bakura," Marik gasped. Another fit of laughter came from the darkness.

"I don't go by that name anymore," he said. "That's what they all called the darkness. The darkness that, make no mistake, never truly left. 'Bakura' affected my life in more ways than one, you see. But either way, don't call me by that disgusting name. I'm Ryou."

"Then, Ryou," Marik said. "Tell me where I am, and what I'm doing here."

"Hmm, I suppose it _is_ a bit dark in here. I'll have to light some of these candles, then maybe you'll recognize this place." Marik heard the sound of a match being struck, and saw the resulting tiny light. What he saw next, as more and more candles were lit, was enough to raise another scream from his throat.

Everything about this room was hauntingly familiar. From the stone pillars to the carvings on the walls, this place was an exact match to the room that had robbed him of his childhood.

"H-how- why-"

"Anything is possible when you have people to guide you, Marik." Ryou grinned. "Even when they aren't exactly… _willing_."

It took Marik a few moments to process the meaning of Ryou's words. Only a select few knew the location of the tomb. The only ones Marik knew of were-

_His siblings_.

"What did you do to them," Marik growled, although he had a feeling he did not want to hear Ryou's answer.

"It's not as though they had to suffer beforehand, so please, don't worry about that-"

"_You bastard._" Marik was only numb for a few seconds before the numbness was replaced by a white-hot rage. "What did they do to you? What did _I_ do to you? What… what are you going to do to me?" Ryou's only indication that he had been listening was a slight widening of his grin, stretching it to a point where it almost seemed demonic.

"What am I going to do…? Really, Marik, must I answer all of your idiotic questions? At least try to figure it out on your own. But if you really want to be this way, I suppose I have no choice but to give you a few clues. First, have you really not noticed this?" Ryou held up his hand, and slowly, reluctantly, Marik moved his gaze towards them. That was where he saw the knife, glinting in the candlelight. His eyes widened as raw terror pulsed through his veins.

Ryou continued on as though he hadn't noticed Marik's reaction. "Second, look at yourself. Chained, to the very rock where your darkness was born, seven years ago. Just lying there, completely helpless… just like you were back then. How does it feel, Marik, to be the one under control, rather than the controller?" More of that crazed, sadistic laughter. "I must say, I can see why you enjoy it so much!

"But I'm getting a bit off topic, aren't I? Your third clue. Do you see your position? Exactly the same as I imagine it was. Everything is the same, Marik. So think about it for a minute- _what am I going to do to you?"_

"If everything is the same, then… you… no… you-you wouldn't do that. You're Ryou. You're the lighter half-"

"I'm sick of that 'light' crap! Everyone thinks I'm so nice, just because I never talked! Because I sat there and took everything that was given to me! But I'm not! I'm sick of people saying I'm perfect! So I… I have to do this! If I do, they'll finally believe that I'm not a saint!"

"Ryou-"

"Shut up. The more you talk, the more you move. The more you move, the harder this will be for both of us."

After that, Ryou said nothing more as he began dragging the blade along one of the lines on Marik's back.

The agony began almost right away. The pain, reminiscent of what he had already endured all those years ago, blossomed along the cuts, along with the small droplets of blood, swelling bigger by the second.

Marik screamed, ignoring the pain in his throat- it was nothing compared to the agonizing feeling covering his back as Ryou ripped open the scars. The scars that he hated so much, that were only going to become uglier.

"Mmm…" Ryou made a humming sound as he continued his work. "Your scars are beautiful, Marik," he said, as casually as he would if he was cutting hair. "I really can't believe it was so easy to make them even more beautiful. Yes, all it needed was a few drops of blood- oh, I can only imagine how beautiful they must have been before, when they were first created."

"…Psycho," Marik spat out, in between waves of pain. "They aren't beautiful. They're scars. What part of that is beauti-gah!" the pain became particularly excruciating for a split second.

"Sorry," Ryou said calmly. "I think I went a little too deep for a moment."

The agony continued, on and on. Marik had given up screaming long ago. The pain was becoming overwhelming, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

_Then sleep._

_ And let that freak win? Like hell._

_ The only way he's going to win is if you die. Taking a little nap won't change a thing._

_ But who knows what he would do while I was asleep? He could kill me if he really wanted to._

_ Ryou is crazy. He would do it, whether you're conscious or not._

Back and forth, he argued with himself. But he refused to close his eyes in the end. He had dealt with this once, after all- he could do it again with no problems.

Right?

Marik was barely conscious when he stopped feeling the warmth of the heated knife against his skin.

"What a shame," said a voice, far away in the distance. "There's no more to cut. I have to bandage it now, and cover it up. How sad." The last thing Marik saw before giving in to unconsciousness was Ryou mimicking the actions of his "darker half" by licking the blood off of the knife.

Xxx

This time when he awoke, all he noticed was the pain.

Ryou was standing over him, that grin still covering his face.

"I heard the pain is so bad you scream for a month," he said. "I'm looking forward to it."

Marik didn't have the strength to fight back. He faded out again.

Xxx

Marik drifted in and out of consciousness for a few days after that. Every time he opened his eyes for those few seconds, Ryou was always there, changing his bandages or just staring at him, smiling.

Xxx

Finally Marik awoke for good. Ryou was, of course, standing right over him, that smile still plastered on his face.

"You had me worried for a while there, Marik," he said. "You were running a fever, and you wouldn't wake up."

"I thought you wanted me dead," Marik mumbled. It was all he had the strength for.

"But if you die, then I won't be able to admire your back. I hate to say it, but you would decompose."

"So you want mw alive? For how long?"

"Until I die."

"Really." In the back of his mind, an idea began to form. Of course he was too weak to act on it now, but he would eventually heal, just as he had the time before.

Xxx

About a month passed. As Ryou had promised, the pain was terrible, almost worse than it had been the time before. But there had been one thought that had kept him from giving up during that month. And it had all been leading up to tonight.

The plan was foolproof. All he had to do was act on it, and he would be free.

"Ryou?" he called. "I'm getting hungry."

"I'll be right in," was Ryou's response. While he waited, Marik's hand curled around the object he had stolen from Ryou while he hadn't been looking. _Soon_.

"Here," Ryou said as he placed a plate in front of Marik. "I made koshari. It's your favorite, right?"

"Yes, Marik said, hoping he wasn't acting too suspicious. "Thank you, Ryou." Sure, it was Marik's favorite, but right now he might as well have been eating sand.

While Marik ate, Ryou sat by the bed. The same bed he had laid in after his first initiation.

"Hmm," Ryou sighed. "I'm so glad we were finally able to take those wretched bandages off." He trailed a finger along one of the scars. It hurt, but Marik refused to show it.

"God, Marik," he mumbled, climbing onto the bed, just as he had been doing every other night lately. "I'm so glad I was able to make you even more perfect than you already were."

Marik tightened his grip, refusing to let Ryou's words get to him.

"Mmm…" Ryou replaced his finger with his lips. He brushed them along Marik's back, and Marik knew that if he didn't do it now, it would never be done at all. With shaking hands, he brought out the knife, and, before Ryou could notice a thing, stabbed him in the back.

Ryou let out a painful gasp. He slowly turned his head, and saw the blood beginning to seep out of the wound and through his shirt.

"Ma… rik…?"

"You said I had to stay until you died. Of course I would want to make that happen as soon as possible."

Marik, with as must strength as he had, pushed Ryou off of him and onto the floor. Even though it hurt, he stood up and knelt down beside Ryou, who stared up at him with pleading eyes.

"I'll let you go, Marik," he begged. "I'll let you go, so please, don't kill me."

"You had your chance to let me go. It's too late now."

"Marik-" But Ryou was cut off by a sudden, quick stab to the neck. He spat out some blood, twitched a few times, and then was silent and unmoving.

_Now._

Marik's back was still screaming with a sharp pain. But still, he ran as fast as he could. All of a sudden, however, the pain intensified. Marik felt something warm drip down his back.

His scars.

They must have reopened. Marik cried out just before falling to the ground with a thud.

Marik couldn't get his body to move anymore, and blood was pooling around him.

_I'm going to die here._ And he knew that this thought was completely true. _At least… at least he got to die, too. Besides, who is left that would actually miss me? I do't have any real friends, and my only family is dead._

Marik closed his eyes. His scars were never going heal, now. And his last thought before his death was, _How ironic. Dying in the same place I was born. The same place I vowed to never visit again._

His only comfort was that Ryou was dead as well. It took several sacrifices from him, but Ryou Bakura would never inflict never-healing scars on anyone ever again.


End file.
